


Heavy Pettin'

by 1JettaPug, Ruriruri



Category: KISS (US Band)
Genre: 1970s, Anal Sex, Arguing, Best Friends, Collars, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Feelings, Food, Foreign Language, Humor, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Kink Exploration, Kissing, M/M, Male Slash, Master/Pet, Pet Play, Porn, Rock Stars, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 01:10:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17653157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1JettaPug/pseuds/1JettaPug, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruriruri/pseuds/Ruriruri
Summary: KISS’ latest bid to get New York’s attention is simple: dog collars for every member of the band. Ace and Peter, naturally, get a lot more use out of the kinky accessories. It doesn’t take long before Peter discovers just how much he enjoys being someone’s Kitty-- both on and offstage.





	Heavy Pettin'

In hindsight, this wasn’t the most ridiculous, desperate thing he’d done for the sake of a band. Agreeing to dress in drag still shamefully topped the list-- Gene hadn’t yet asked him to make good on the bargain, thank God, but he had the dim feeling it was only a matter of time. But getting sent out with ten bucks, Ace, and a request for four dog collars “for our outfits”... well.

Well, it was pretty damn ridiculous and pretty damn desperate. But as KISS’ least-gainfully-employed members, Gene determined Peter and Ace had to do something to earn their keep, as if four-hour rehearsals every single night wasn’t enough. Peter didn’t appreciate running errands for the band; it cut into his playtime with bored housewives pretty severely… but Ace was mellow enough company, and the pet store wasn’t the worst place to waste half an hour and someone else’s money. He just hoped the checkout girl didn’t ask too many questions.

Ace was at his side for five minutes at best before wandering off to the other aisles. Peter could hear his obnoxious cackling from clear across the other end of the store, coupled with some awful trilling from… what, a parrot, a cockatiel? Something. Peter winced to himself, winding down the next aisle, where several rows of dog and cat collars hung on display. Thick chain-link collars that looked like they’d hurt like hell, or at least leave marks, heavily studded leather collars that were probably meant for dogs named Brutus or Rex… Peter could feel his mouth sink into a pout the longer he looked around.

God. God, he was almost twenty-eight years old. He should’ve made it by now. Should’ve become that renowned drummer in a big rock band by now, with concerts every night, screaming fans, and all the glamorous women money and fame could buy. Instead all that ever seemed to await him were his three dollar allowance and his wife, who was getting more pissed about the new band’s lack of gigs by the day.

Peter shook his head, trying to force that out of his brain as he fingered one of the dog collars, wishing Gene had bothered to give him some neck measurements before sending him and Ace off. Not exactly something he could estimate offhand. This one was black leather, kind of thick, with a few studs around the center…. Hmm. He glanced around for a second and then put it up around his neck experimentally. Yeah, yeah, even without pulling it taut and buckling it in the back, he figured it would fit. That just left the other three… he ran his fingers across the black leather collar again, distracted. The feel of it was weirdly nice, the studs the only interruption from the cool, smooth feel. He’d never been able to afford leather pants, but he figured they’d have this texture, too, kind of buttery and defiantly masculine all at once. Yeah. Peter didn’t even notice when Ace crept behind him, the parrot on his shoulder suddenly piping up-- 

“ _AWK!_ WH _AT’S_ NE _W_ _PUSSY_ CAT!?”

“Fuck!” Peter jumped. He turned around to get a face full of white feathers and two cackling bird brains. “Jesus Christ, Ace! What the hell man?”

“H _AHa_ hA _HahH_ aH! You should’ve seen your face! Totally worth talking Paulie here into saying that.”

“Whatcha do, trade ‘im a cracker?” Peter huffed, glaring at the still-laughing bird on Ace’s finger.

“Nah, just traded him a bit of cosmic knowledge.”

Peter hardly batted an eye at that. In the short time he’d known him, plenty of weirder things had come out of Ace’s mouth. “Man, whatever… Listen, we oughta put a bell on you, though! You keep giving me heart attacks and KISS won’t last till the end of the month.”

“ _AWK!_ PR _ETT_ Y KI _TTY_ , PRE _TTY_ K _ITT_ Y!” Peter stared the screeching bird down, then shifted his eyes over to Ace, wearing a flat expression.

“...What? Hey, I didn’t teach him that!” Ace smiled and patted the bird on its head. “Seems like he just knows beauty when he sees it.”

“ _PAULIE_ BA _UR -O_ BA _S! BA_ S! _AWK!_ ”

“ _Awk,_ indeed, little guy.” Ace nodded and pulled half a cracker out of his shirt pocket. “Here you go, Paulie~”

“...You taught him Jendell-”

“Yup! Turns out _AWK_ means the same thing on Earth with birds as it does for those on Jendell. Who would’ve thought?”

“Okay. Whatever,” Peter shook his head, turning back to the collars. His thumb and index finger were still rubbing over the leather collar in his hand, enjoying the smooth feel far too much to set it back down.

“Sooooo… You got _your_ collar, Kitty?” Ace smirked, stroking Paulie the bird, still. “Does it fit?”

“Yeah, it fits-”

“Oh fuck, you tried it on- H _AHa_ hA _Ha_ H!” Ace threw his head back and laughed, catching the attention of another patron. Peter elbowed him in the ribs, shutting him up.

“Can it,” He snapped. “Had to try it on. We can’t come back here four times to return four collars for bigger or smaller sizes.”

“Nothing stopping us! I’ll go ahead and grab a spiked collar for Gene ‘cause of his whole _Demon_ thing he’s got going on.” Ace said, reaching over Peter’s shoulder to pluck the black collar off the wall. “Aaaaaand, I’m thinking we get Paul something meant for a Chihuahua.”

Peter snorted.

“Sassy little bitch dogs,” Ace cackled, lightly. “The collar should fit the personality, yeah?”

“Pffftt, yeah, but we should still get Paul something a bit bigger-”

“Oh! Kitty, lookie, look! This one has a bell! It’s so shiny!”

“ _AWK!_ SH _INY!_ ”

“Paulie’s got the right idea, Kitty. Let’s listen to the bird and get you a kitty-cat collar! It fits what you’re going for!” Ace rambled, grabbing the collar up off the wall and throwing it around Peter’s neck for a quick size check. Peter sucked in a quick breath the second the leather collar wrapped around his neck, its little bell jingling with each little movement of his. A light flush came over his face for a moment, growing a bit as Peter lifted his chin some to let Ace get a real good look at it on him. Ace’s smile was broad when he saw that it fit, then he pulled it off, throwing it onto his arm with the other collar. “Okay! And, I guess I’ll just take this one! Look, it has a star shaped ID tag! Ohh! Can we get these engraved?”

Peter shook his head, the fluff of his hair hitting his cheeks lightly. He managed to find his voice just as Ace started walking off towards the check out. “A- Ace! No, we don’t have any more money to waste-”

“Aww, c’mon, let’s splurge!”

“On collars we’re not even sure we’re gonna use?”

“Oh, we’re gonna use them! Trust me!”

“Hang on, Ace, we didn’t get Paul’s--”

“S’okay, we’ll just tell him we didn’t find any we thought would fit. He’d probably bitch about whatever we picked out, anyway.” Nonchalant, Ace kept on walking, though his focus was more on the bird, as if he’d only just now remembered it was still perched on his shoulder. “Hey, hey, you gotta go back to your cage now… I know, man. I’ll be back when I’m a rockstar, yeah?” He wandered back to the row of cages and returned the parrot, Peter following behind with the collar he’d first picked still in his hand. Peter just shook his head.

“You’re not really coming back for that parrot, are you?”

“Course I am. Paulie’s pretty cool.” Ace smiled. “What do you still have that collar for? I got yours right here.”

“I am not wearing a collar with a bell on it, asshole.”

“Fine, fine.” Ace flicked the bell with his finger, grinning slightly at the sound of the tinny chime. “You got Gene’s ten bucks, right? Go ahead and pay for these, I’ll put this one back. Meetcha outside.” He handed off the other collars before Peter could respond.

The check-out girl would’ve been distracting if she hadn’t been privy to Ace’s earlier conversations with the parrot. She kept eying Peter with a wary sort of look as she counted out his change and bagged the collars, a look that prevented him from hitting on her. Peter let out a sigh, stuffing the change in his back pocket, bag in hand, and headed outside to wait on Ace.

Peter leaned against the side of the building, fingers curled tight around the plastic bag. He shut his eyes, growling under his breath as he thought back to the delightful chime of the bell. For as much as he snapped at Ace about it, he really didn’t mind it being wrapped around his neck. It had been a perfect fit! The sound of the bell was sweet, the leather felt so smooth, and-- and--

“Fuck,” he mumbled, leaning his head back against the wall. “What the hell is wrong with me?” Why was he getting so worked up over a collar? He shouldn’t have been! It was just a dumb cat collar. He could see Paul and Gene laughing at him now! He’d be wearing it during practice or a concert and they’d mess up on a chord or lyric just because the little jingles of his bell caught their ears. He’d be an embarrassment! He would be embarrassed! No matter how much he enjoyed hearing it ring around his neck…

“Alrighty! I said my temporary goodbyes to Paulie,” Ace said, stepping out from the shop. He walked up to Peter and slapped a hand atop his shoulder. “I told ‘im that I’d take him to Jendell one day. I bet he’d like it there, less gravity and- whoa. What’s with that face?” he asked, tilting his head at the drummer.

Peter brushed his hand off and started walking. “Nothing. It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Well, now I have to worry about it--” Ace tried to laugh but was cut off.

“Listen, I’m just a little hungry,” Peter shrugged. “Maybe a little tired, too. Just wanna go home now.”

“Aww, okay,” Ace smiled at him, walking beside him with his hands in his pockets. “Let’s go grab some food and get you home for your catnap, h _aAH_ ha _HAH_ aH!”

Peter wanted to snap back at him, but he couldn’t help but crack a little smile at the pun. “Alright, but hey, you’re buying. I ran out of my three dollar allowance--”

“Already?” Ace laughed at him. “Damn, how much McDonald’s are you buying for breakfast? H _aAH_ aHa _haA_ h!”

“Ah, shut it and just buy us lunch.” Peter grinned, lightly punching his buddy in the shoulder.

 

  
Ace wasn’t really paying attention to where they were headed, but he looked up when they reached a crosswalk and noticed it was in the direction of Peter’s apartment. Peter was looking ahead, eyebrows down and lips pursed like he was thinking. Weird. Peter was usually about as contemplative as Ace himself was, meaning not at all. When he finally glanced over at Ace, both of them on the other side of the intersection now, he tilted his head and motioned to the bucket of chicken held firmly in Ace’s arms. 

“Tell me you don’t plan on eating all of that before we get back to my place.”

So Peter wasn’t contemplative at all, just hungry. Huh. Ace stopped at the corner and turned to the drummer. “Aww, c’mon, I can’t nibble on a leg or two?” he grinned at him.

“I want some, too, Ace.”

“I’ll save you one leg-”

“Stop eating out of the bucket!” Peter shook his head at him. “We’ll be at my place in five minutes!”

“Hey, I paid for it, means I got dibs!” Ace laughed, turned, then kept walking behind him. “Awww, Kitty, you’re so grumpy when you haven’t had your lunch.”

They kept pace with one another, turning at the same streets, Ace’s not-so-very-subtle munching and Peter’s huffy silence becoming increasingly tense for both of them as they approached his apartment. Peter honestly could not wait to just go on in, slam the door on this weird day, crack open a beer and eat something. Get his mind off that stupid, stupid collar-- as if he could while he was carrying the whole bag of them and Ace was merrily chomping down on yet another drumstick right across from him. God, if Ace hadn’t bought lunch for them both, he’d probably try and get him to go back home for the rest of the afternoon, too, and catch back up at practice tonight… he just felt-- well, weird. Weird and distracted. At one point he actually had to stop himself from digging into the bag of collars and running his finger down their soft leather. Fuck. Fuck, was this a fetish? Peter stole a suspicious glance or two at Ace, somehow wary that he knew, as if he even _could,_ but Ace just waved a chicken bone at him before tossing it in the trash.

Finally, after a few more minutes of walking, they were at his five-storey walk up. Ace stood by and watched as Peter shifted the plastic bag in his hand, reaching in his pockets for his keys. He unlocked the door to his apartment and held it open for Ace to walk through. They passed the second floor and stopped on the third, the carpet dulling the sounds of their steps but the floor creaking just a bit. Ace hummed suspiciously at that but tread onward.

They kept on going, walking down the hall, hands full of a bucket of chicken and a plastic bag full of dog collars. Perfectly normal day for the band members of KISS. Then Peter stopped at one door and pulled out his keys and inserted them in the lock.

Ace followed behind him after he opened his door up. “Sooo, beer?”

“We have beer,” Peter nodded, throwing the plastic bag down on the couch.

“Thank God,” Ace grinned, trailing after him to the kitchen. Ace glanced around curiously as they passed through the rest of the living room but stayed in step behind Peter. “Did Lydia bake a cake this week or anything, too, or--”

“Pfft, hell no,” Peter snorted, throwing open the fridge door and reaching in for a couple of bottles. “She doesn’t bake for ‘lazy drummers’ who don’t bring home any money.”

“Ahh, h _ahA_ H _hA_ H, I can’t blame her.” Ace cackled, lightly. “Got any sweets?”

“Might be some oatmeal creme pies in the pantry.” He pulled out the bottles as he talked, rummaged for the bottle opener in the silverware drawer. “Wait, no, I ate the last two yesterday. … You want bananas? We’ve got bananas--”

“You live like a fucking bachelor, man.” Ace was staring at the still-open, mostly-empty fridge and shaking his head. Bread, eggs… a small carton of milk, a larger carton of cream… a six-pack of beer, some wine... sure, they had the essentials, but...

“Eh, it’s just the two of us, we don’t need a lot.” Peter opened the bottles and got out a pair of plates and napkins, even though he was hoping-- hoping-- that Ace had already scarfed down all he wanted of the chicken. Then he took a seat, reaching in the greasy paper bucket, fingers winding around one of the promised leftover legs. Not even chewed on, thank God, already, he wouldn’t have put that past Ace. He took a bite, smile starting to form on his face. The only fried food in Lydia’s repertoire was frozen French fries, and half the time she’d just bake those. Peter knew, deep down, that maybe he was lucky she was cooking at all, given she worked a regular nine-to-five so he could focus on his music, but still. It sucked that he had to fend for himself if he wanted something really tasty. Another bite, the greasy chicken juice running down his chin.

Peter about moaned. The fried chicken piled up in the bucket was breaded, flaky and still warm. It was so far removed from the usual canned foods or cold microwave dinners he normally subsisted on. Hell, he hardly even ever found time to heat up the canned goods, he just popped the top and grabbed a fork. It worked. It worked, but it sucked.

Ace wasn’t much for table manners, Peter found out. He spat the bones back onto his plate and wiped his face on his sleeve, completely ignoring the napkins. It was so bizarre for Peter to watch, having grown up in a household where if you didn’t comply with manners and his mother’s wishes it meant a smack on the behind. He was just raised with an idea of proper manners and cleanliness. 

Watching Ace eat was… gross, if that was the right word to use. The concept of a napkin or wipe just seemed like something Ace had never heard of. He actually set a half-eaten wing on the kitchen table instead of his plate at one point, before a grimace from Peter sorted _that_ out. It was almost off-putting to see the lead guitarist making such a mess, but the ease and relaxing way in which he ate almost made up for it.

Hell, it must have been too relaxing, because soon it was like Peter had forgotten that Ace was there at all. Then he ate like he was alone, making interested little noises and sucking meat from bones. It was systematic, really almost soothing after a weird day like this. He would finish off a piece or two of fried chicken, and then take a swig of beer to wash it down, repeat. Soon enough, he leaned back in his chair, downing the last of his second bottle and tossing the last bone onto his plate.

Ace only seemed to come out of his own little reverie when both his plate and the bucket were empty, with his two bottles of beer completely drained and the others still on Peter’s side of the table and out of easy reach. 

A sly grin began to cross his face, and Ace stood up from his chair, leaning back and stretching himself out for a moment. Peter hardly batted an eye at him, far too busy trying to stick his tongue down his beer bottle to try and get that last drop.

Without a word, Ace slinked over to his side of the table, his hand reaching for another beer but swinging to his pocket the last second. Peter’s cheeks exploded in a bright flush the moment he felt a black leather collar wrap itself around his neck. His head snapped around to face Ace, then froze, stopping at the sound of a gentle ringing.

The flush deepened and spread, his neck and ears turning red, too. “ _A- Ace…?!_ Wha- What is-- You- _You!_ What did you do!?”

“Just, uh- Heh,” Ace cleared his throat and smiled at how red Peter had gotten. “Just bought you a pretty present ‘s all. With the way you were eyeing it up and loved its little jingle, I thought--”

“ _No!_ The fuck?! I didn’t even wanna get the damn collars in the first place!” He was shaking his head as he spoke, the bell chiming in cheerful defiance with every movement. He grabbed the bell, feeling around the back of his neck with his other hand, searching for the clasp. “Now get this off!”

“But you look so cute!” Ace’s hands, useless when it came to carrying band equipment but plenty fast on the guitar-- or, shit, on collaring him-- slid almost absently against his shoulders, rubbing just a bit, fingertips moving up, up, to just graze against the leather collar and push Peter’s hand away. He slid a finger underneath and murmured in approval, approval that sent some bizarre shiver straight down Peter’s spine. “Mm, and not too tight, yeah-- s’good-- good, Kitty--”

“What’re you-- I’m not a fucking cat, Ace! Cut this shit out!” Peter yelled. His whole face was the color of a fire hydrant, pulse pounding even in his own ears. Shit. Touching against his neck like this, Ace could probably-- no, definitely even feel it. Silently, Peter damned his own panic to hell as he kept on. “Get it off! Help me get it off!”

Peter’s hands were back to his own neck again, fidgeting desperately with the collar, finally finding the buckle. His fingers felt like fat sausages trying to strum a harp, totally useless. If the band was really going to use these stupid fucking collars, they’d need each other to take the damn things off-- twitching furiously, he started to feel around to pull at the notched loop, only for Ace to lay his hand on top of his, fingers curling.

“You really wanna get it off that bad?”

“ _Yes!_ Yes, I fucking do!”

“Then you’re gonna have to do something for me first, Kitty.” Ace laughed. He was stroking Peter’s fingers, straight on down from the knuckles to the tips, and then, all of a sudden, weirdly gently, he tugged Peter’s hands back down toward his lap. 

“What’s that?” Peter asked in disbelief that Ace was actually going to have him do something first. He bet it was going to be something ridiculous, too, or downright embarrassing. As if just being in KISS wasn’t getting embarrassing enough… the lousy gigs that never paid more than ten bucks a piece, now the collars… next they’d probably be scouring porno shops for BDSM gear. He huffed out a groan.

Ace smiled down at him, running his hands over his shoulder now. “ _Kitty…_ Does the Kitty wanna play?” he cooed out to him with a chipper voice.

Peter’s eyes were jumping between Ace and the doorway of the kitchen. He could have run right out of the room to his bedroom and slammed the door on all of this. Could’ve just escaped from this madness right then and there. If he weren’t so baffled, then he just might have done it. Instead, his eyes trailed back to Ace, noticing that it seemed like he was waiting on Peter to say what was in his mind.

“...Are you fucking serious?” Peter finally asked.

Ace tilted his head to the side and grinned.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked in return.

Peter stayed quiet for a moment, lips pursed, shoulders tensed, but soon, one hand rose up from his lap and flicked at the bell. A soft jingle echoed in the kitchen. Another followed after it.

“This… This is messed up…” Peter pointed out, softly.

Ace looked down at the bell on his collar where his fingers were gently rubbing over it.

“I don’t think it’s messed up,” Ace told him. “I think we both kinda like it.”

Peter was getting frustrated, Ace could tell, but he wasn’t sure why. Ace saw how much he wanted this, wanted to wear his nice collar! He really hoped that Peter would have opened up now that they were all alone in his apartment without anyone to judge. But the silence dragged on, making Ace be the one to start fidgeting in place. He was still looking to Peter, waiting for an answer. Eventually, Peter sighed and rubbed his forefinger and thumb over his bell, giving it another little ring.

“Fine… I guess I wanna try it.” Peter shrugged. “Maybe just a little… it’s just a stupid collar...”

Ace smirked down at him.

“Take off your clothes,” he commanded, clearly trying not to hide his smile whatsoever.

“WHA- WHAT!?” Peter spat, sending him a look. “ _ACE!_ Ace, no! Man, you- you gotta- Jeeeeeeeze. ...Start me off easy.”

“Awww, fine,” Ace said, leaning over and grabbing his hands up into his. “C’mon. Let’s get this Kitty comfy~”

Peter felt a little ridiculous letting Ace lead him into his own living room, but he didn’t argue, settling down onto the worn couch. He had a good feeling he knew the score now, anyway. Ace was pretty much constantly horny, even during practice, and somehow, getting full-on drunk never curbed his hard-ons any. And Peter himself, well. He’d be lying if he said they’d never fooled around after practice when it was too late at night to find girls that weren’t hookers. Sloppy makeouts they joked about the next day, while Paul and Gene just stared and shook their heads. If that was all Ace wanted out of this, that was fine, that was cool. Hell, he’d even let him call him Kitty or whatever else he wanted, as long as he got the collar off in the end.

It didn’t quite occur to Peter until a second later that he’d been letting Ace call him that the entire time. The realization made him wince, but not for long-- Ace was already busy proving him right, one hand already sliding under Peter’s shirt while the other pulled him up from the couch and onto his lap. 

“You’re in a real big hurry--”

“Shhh, shhh. Mm, you know kittycats don’t sit on the couch like this!” Ace laughed. “You’ve got some training to do… but s’okay. I gotcha.” Then Ace’s lips collided with his own, his hand slipping up, up, stroking Peter’s torso, wandering to pinch one nipple. Peter jerked in a mix of surprise and arousal, batting at his hand, the bell chiming with every move. But a look from Ace was enough to stop him from anything further. Ace just repeated the motion, tweaking the other nipple and earning a slight little sound from Peter in return. 

Usually Ace went for Peter’s neck more when they made out, but with that option almost gone, he’d had to adjust. Not that Peter minded; Ace’s tongue slipping into his mouth, his teeth tugging lightly against his bottom lip-- all that was great, filling him with that warm headiness that was even better than booze. But there was something different in the way Ace was kissing him now. None of Ace’s usual laziness. No, he was definitely being more aggressive this time. Pushing for control. Like a real Mas--

Shit, he was overthinking the hell out of this.

“ _Awwww,_ you’re my kitten now, aren’t you?” Ace murmured, pulling back and smiling against his lips. “And you’re such a good little kitty for me.” Peter shifted, the bell giving off its pleasant and cute chime. “Awwww, don’t be all bashful on me now~ C’here~” the guitarist said, tone gentle and warm.

Suddenly, Peter found himself being draped over Ace’s lap, his head and arms resting on his thighs. Ace smiled down at him and put a hand on his hip, slowly inching to palm his stomach.

“A- Ace…!”

“Ssshhh, sshh, no talking.”

“Then what--”

“You can guess, Kitty.” Ace said, putting his hand to his belly and rubbing gently. Peter shook his head at the treatment, bell ringing loudly on his neck, but he really couldn’t help but-- but purr! 

There was just something about it! Something about the way that Ace was carefully rubbing him, pressing his hand against his belly and rubbing it over his skin. It just made him feel so calm, so at peace, so… pleased. He wasn’t used to that. Never let himself be like that. His edginess and anger always got in the way. But right now, here he was, leaving all that behind for this strange, warm comfort. Ace grinned and kissed him on the cheek, and Peter blushed and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Ace gave him another gentle kiss as he started moving both hands over him.

“Good little kittens get belly rubs,” Ace crooned, sweetly. He leaned down to kiss his tummy, making Peter finally give in a little and grin. “Awww, you like this? I need to hear if you like it.”

Peter shook his head and turned to hide his face into Ace’s shirt.

“Awwww, c’mon, Kitty, don’t be shy. You’re loving it~” Ace planted another kiss atop his stomach, then chest, then went to kiss his neck. He buried his face there and started nibbling lightly on the skin around his collar. The bell jingled quite a bit as he worked, and Peter even arched his back slightly. He gasped as Ace gave him a harsh bite. 

“A- Ace!”

Ace pulled away at that with a frown, and Peter whined, loudly.

“ _Please…_ ”

The guitarist’s expression only began to sour more. Staring Peter straight in the eye, he hooked a finger underneath the collar and gave it a meaningful tug. 

He didn’t need to say anything. That one tug communicated every word. Peter’s face went scarlet as he realized. _You’re mine,_ Ace was saying. _You’re mine, my Kitty, and you know what to do._

Peter bit his lower lip, then wriggled against his thighs and arched up. He hesitated for just a moment or two more, and then he mewled out softly to him- needily, even.

That warm smile settled back nicely on Ace’s face, and he kissed his pet again, this time a deeper, rougher kiss. Peter just kept mewling and making soft noises as he felt Ace’s hands pulling at his shirt, signaling for him to let him take it off. The drummer complied, letting Ace strip him, then continue with his pants and boxers until Peter was completely naked between his legs. Well, not completely. The soft jingling from the collar proved otherwise.

“Mmmmn,” Peter whined as Ace kept leaving small kisses on his lips. He was vocal for each and every kiss. Ace’s lips and hands just felt so _good_ on him, and Peter found himself seeing the appeal of being treated like a little kitty more and more. Getting presents, maybe getting treats fed to him, having his belly rubbed just for following instructions and being cute, and all the kisses and attention he could want.

God, why had he been acting so self conscious about all of this earlier? Peter wanted his leather collar, and he should have never fought his feelings about it. He was so thankful Ace had stepped in and done what he had been too stubborn to do, because this was what he wanted. This felt _right._ This felt so right, like he _was_ a little kitty, presenting his tummy for a good belly rub and wanting attention and kisses. Peter wanted Ace’s hands all over him, massaging and stroking and petting his soft belly. Ace felt safe, and he marveled at how something as simple as putting on a collar had let him get there so easily.

Ace continued to stroke him, scratch behind his ear and just rub him all over. Peter was honestly about to fall asleep when Ace’s hands stopped their mellow motions.

“Mmrr?” Peter opened one eye and glanced up at him. Ace’s head was tilted and his smile so warm, and Peter just couldn’t help but think he stopped for a moment to marvel at him. With that in mind, he shut his eye and nuzzled back into Ace’s thigh, nosing his way towards his shirt.

“Awww, c’mon. Hey,” Ace told him, trying to catch his attention. “Heeey, listen, I thought up a little surprise for you. Don’t you want your surprise, Kitten?”

Peter exhaled through his nose and went back to rubbing his face against Ace’s front.

“Awww, no, no.” he muttered. The guitarist pulled back his hands, and Peter instantly couldn’t help but mewl sadly at the loss of touch. “Now, now.” Ace tutted, softly, “Be good for me, little Kitty.”

Gently, Ace leaned Peter up off his lap and helped lower him to the floor. The moment Peter went to try to get onto his knees to stand up, Ace frowned and placed his hands at his waist, keeping him bent over.

“Just like that. There. Good.” Ace clicked his tongue approvingly once Peter was firmly on his hands and knees, and started running his hand through Peter’s hair, thumb stroking right behind his ears. Peter couldn’t help but tilt his head up into the petting, turning this way and that, eager for another stroke and another and another. He whined when Ace finally withdrew his hand and stood up to his full height. Damn. Damn, he’d always had to look up to meet Ace’s gaze, but having to look up at him from the floor was a whole other perspective. Ace seemed twice as tall as before, absolutely towering above him-- it made Peter feel vulnerable, even more like a little kitty-- but it was making him squirm, too. Ace grinned.

“Kitty-kitty, we’re gonna get you a treat. You want a treat? Yes?”

Peter nodded eagerly, bell jingling with every bob of his head.

“Good. C’mon. C’mon.” Ace started clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth again, murmuring sweetly. “Let’s go to the kitchen, then I’ll get you something real good…”

Peter didn’t need to be told twice, eagerly crawling along with Ace toward the kitchen. He was practically prancing over there, eager for his treat, even though in the back of his mind, he had his doubts on what Ace could really offer there. He’d been right earlier-- him and Lydia didn’t really keep a whole lot of food in the house-- but whatever Ace came up with, whatever treat there was, he knew he’d devour it with relish.

Ace seemed to already know what he wanted, though. As soon as they got to the kitchen, he flung the fridge door back open, and didn’t even have to rummage before finding exactly what he needed-- the carton of cream. He turned around, almost forgetting himself and asking Peter where the bowls were, before catching himself and just opening the cabinets until he found them. From there he filled the bowl with milk before carefully, gingerly setting the sloshing bowl down on the floor right in front of his pet.

As soon as the bowl was sat on the ground before him, Peter found himself hesitating. With wide, dark eyes he glanced upward at Ace, feeling unsure of himself again.

“C’here, little Kitten,” Ace crooned, sweetly. “It’s the perfect drink for a kitty-kitty like you, and it’s all for you. You don’t gotta fight no one for it. C’mon~”

Ace crouched beside the bowl and starting making soft, nonsense noises in order to lure his Kitty over. He crept over slowly, sniffed the cream excessively, then gave it a single, slow lap. Ace smiled happily as his new pet suspiciously sniffed it, and then began to lap it up with increasing speed. 

With a soft hum, Ace’s hand stroked down his pet’s head to the base of his neck and back up. Peter made a low cry of approval and continued eating, braver now, messier now, enjoying the attention and loving how his little bell rang with each long lick of his. The cream was ending up all over his face before long, streaking his chin and cheeks, at first on accident, then with intent, nose pressing down into the bowl. He paused, glancing up at Ace, a little anxious mewling escaping his throat. Would Ace scold him for making a mess? Would he wipe him down? It was so wild, how easily he was falling into this. 

“Aww, Kitty, you got it all over you…” Not scolding, not at all. “It’s okay, lemme clean you up...” And then Ace bent down next to him, cross-legged, cupping the side of Peter’s dripping wet face with one hand, while his other worked through Peter’s hair, blunt nails scratching down his scalp in a steady rhythm. Peter took a quick breath before Ace leaned in closer and started to lick the cream off his face, tracing his cheeks and chin with his tongue before sweeping over to his mouth, kisses and laps mixing together in a warm heat that was starting to go straight to Peter’s groin. By the time Peter started to paw at him, raising a hand to scratch at Ace’s shirt, though, Ace withdrew just a bit, still grinning. He was still running a reassuring hand through Peter’s hair.

“Finish up first, Kitty. S’all right. You’re doing so good. Promise I got more treats coming for my little Kittycat.” 

That was all the incentive Peter needed to finish his bowl of cream. After licking the bowl clean, Peter rubbed up against Ace’s legs in thanks, mewling when Ace rubbed behind his ears again. He began to build that rhythm up once again, rubbing and petting and scratching all around his pet’s head. Peter found himself shifting, his body really starting to react to all the heavy petting. When Ace’s hands lightly pulled at his hair, though, he couldn’t keep his cries from coming out. 

“Awww, Kitty,” Ace cooed, moving to now stand back above his pet. With gentle hands, he forced Peter to turn his body to the side just a bit, revealing his hardened erection. “What’s got you so excited, hmm?” he asked in this awed whisper. Ace wrapped a hand around the base of Peter’s cock and gave it an experimental pump.

Peter rocked his head to the side, the bell jingling loudly, singing out the praises that he tried so hard to bite back in his mouth. It only got harder when Ace’s hand stroked his cock again.

Ace sunk his free hand into Peter’s fluffy locks while he pulled his cock in several fast, long strokes. Ace’s hands massaged over both of Peter’s heads, making him mewl and start to pant.

“I never realized how sensitive you were, Kitten.” Ace teased him, sweetly. His fingers rose and fell just slightly as he slid his hand up and down Peter’s shaft.

“ _Mmh- Mm--_ ” Peter hissed out between his teeth, still trying to hold back some of his more lewd groans. He breathed hot and heavy, already leaking precum all over Ace’s hand.

“You look really nice like this,” Ace murmured, pulling idly at Peter’s hair, gentle enough not to hurt, firm enough to make him whine. “Damn, if only we knew how much you loved being a little kitty-kitty. We could’ve been playing for much longer… But now we can play as often as you want, Kitten.”

Peter could only mewl in agreement as he began to tremble on his hands and knees, hips vaguely thrusting to meet Ace’s hand. The lead guitarist hummed and leaned over him to whisper in his ear,

“I mean it, Peter. Anytime you need your _Master,_ well, go ahead and say so. Alright?”

Peter moaned louder than he probably should have, and before he could glance up at Ace to see if he was going to get scolded for not meowing, Ace yanked him up by the collar and crushed their lips together. Peter kissed back feverishly, wriggling in his grasp, nipping at Ace’s lips, sucking Ace’s tongue. Oh, oh, God, it was getting to be too much. He couldn’t keep on like this. With every one of Ace’s strokes he was getting closer and closer to coming all over his own kitchen floor. No way to communicate that, except through a few more needy sounds as Ace ran two fingers underneath the leather collar, tracing at his neck.

“Mm, you know what good kitties get?” Ace’s hand withdrew from Peter’s cock, and almost instantly Peter started to whine, bucking his hips up against nothing. Ace’s grin only widened. “Good kitties get to sleep on the bed. You wanna? You wanna get in bed with your Master?”

Peter nodded his head eagerly, the bell ringing in a frenzy with every shake. His hair was getting all over his eyes, sticking up in places from Ace’s constant petting. He looked like a mess, he was a total mess, absolutely enthralled and absolutely overwhelmed with need. It was crazy. He’d never sought out praise before, just expected it and stomped off when it wasn’t there. Sure, he was married, but the only needs he’d ever been attentive to were his own, tomcatting around Brooklyn and beyond only to straggle back home worse for wear and tear. All that kept him satisfied, to a point, but not happy. Not really content. Nothing had ever made him half as content as Ace cooing and rubbing behind his ears and jacking him off on the floor.

Maybe Ace sensed it, too. No, he definitely did. He pressed a playful kiss to his nose.

“Okay. Good Kitty. You’re not a stray anymore, are you, Kittycat? You’re mine.” And then he gathered Peter up in his arms, carrying him to his bedroom. “ _Oof,_ Kitty, you’re not as little as I thought…”

After wandering into the bedroom, Ace sat Peter back down on the ground and walked towards the bed, looking over his shoulder to see if his pet would follow him. Peter did, scampering after him and meowing. Ace grinned and patted the bed.

“Up.”

Peter climbed up on the bed and started to stomp around in a circle, stopping to spread his legs a little and arch his back. He shifted back and forth on his knees in invitation.

“Aww, fuck, Kitten--” Was all Ace managed to say before he couldn’t help himself. He all but jumped up onto the bed and tackled his pet, licking a wet stripe from the base of Peter’s neck up to his ear. Peter jolted with pleasure, his hands grabbing the sheets of the bed with a tight grip.

Ace just continued to shower him with affection, rubbing his cheek into his back, breathing deep and trailing little licking kisses anywhere he could reach. Peter mewled, needily, jerking under his touch eventually, wanting Ace to get on with it. He jerked his hips up against Ace’s crotch, and Ace was the one who let out an animalistic groan, rocking down into that firm pressure beneath him.

The feel of Ace’s jeans rubbing against his bare skin so fast got real old, real uncomfortable too quick. Peter turned his head back around and let out a little hiss when Ace humped him again, finally catching the guitarist’s attention.

“Oh, oops, sorry, Kitten.” Peter made an annoyed sound as Ace started yanking at the waistband of his pants. “Off. Gotta get ‘em off,” he muttered to himself. “Ahhh, _fuck it-_ no time.”

Ace unzipped his jeans and hauled them and his boxers down to about mid-thigh. He yanked them down so fast that his cock slapped back against his stomach, and Peter made another soft noise when he heard it.

“Ahh, fuck lube, condoms,” Ace growled, mentally cursing at himself for not going and prepping for this earlier. Luckily for him, Peter was a man after his own heart and kept his important tools right on the nightstand near the bed. After leaning over to grab both items, he rolled his condom on and began to slick himself up, watching Peter wriggle his hips and listening to him whine.

He only stopped when Ace gave him a firm slap to the outside of his thigh. Peter’s body shot up, shivering in a little mix of pain and pleasure.

“Hey! Hey, back on your knees, Kitty.” Ace commanded, and Peter immediately did as he was told, face down, ass up. “So eager for your Master, aren’t you?” Ace smirked, prying apart Peter’s cheeks and putting his mouth back to work.

Ace was now in the perfect position for really eating him out, and he intended to take full advantage of it. He gathered spit and pushed it in with his tongue, fucking in deep before sucking it right back out and Peter was mewling so sweetly, so loudly. Peter’s cock was hanging heavy between his thighs, a clear string of precum connecting him to the bed, and he fell onto one shoulder to get a hand on himself. At the barest brush of his fingers, Ace bit down hard into the meat of his ass cheek _hard._

Peter yelped and put his hand back on the bed.

“Now, now, only good kittens get their treats,” Ace told him before he got back to work. Peter couldn’t find it in him to fight or say anything against that. He could only choke on a soft meow as Ace slid a well aimed finger against his prostate.

“Want me to fuck you, Kitty?” Ace asked, one palm sliding up Peter’s sweat slicked back.

Peter could only mewl, needily, back arching in obvious invitation.

“Awww, well, because you asked so sweetly…” Ace said, trying for nonchalance but failing and coming out breathless.

As soon as Ace had the head of his cock pressed up against his pet’s opening, it took quite a lot of restraint not to just go down on him and startle his precious Kitten. He gripped Peter by the hips and eased on into him in one slow, smooth thrust that had his pet whining and panting, hotly. When he was fully in, Ace rolled his hips in deep, feeling Peter’s muscles clutch and pull around him, and the drummer let his breath out in a quick hiss.

“F- Fuck, Kitten…” Ace groaned, appreciating that ragged, low feral sound that rumbled in Peter’s chest. “Feel so fuckin’ good. _So good…_ ”

Peter moaned in response and rocked back onto his master’s cock so that it scraped just right over his prostate. Ace hands skated up his waist before he planted a firm palm between his shoulder blades, pressing his pet flat to the bed. Peter’s pulse jumped at the show of dominance, a feeling he never even considered popping up, but when it came to Ace, Peter was willing to take on any role.

“You like that, Kitty-kitty?” Ace asked, as if he read his mind. He pulled back out slowly, tugging Peter’s nerves and setting them ablaze. “Does my little Kitten want their Master to own them?” Peter bit his lip so as not to respond, but Ace pounded back inside him, ripping a mewl out of him and making him twist his fingers in the sheets.

“What’s that?” Ace started a slow, deep pace that Peter was trying to speed up with his own thrusts, but the hand on his back only increased its strength and pinned him down. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

Peter’s face burned, pride and lust warring inside him, but he was far past his breaking point this evening. All he could do was cry out, barely recognizing the desperate tone of his needy mewls.

It was plenty for his master, who shoved back in so fast that it knocked the breath right out of him. Ace clamped one hand around his pet’s shoulder and twisted the other in his hair to wrench his neck back, making the bell jingle loudly with each and every thrust. Ace was pounding his cock in good and fast now, growling under his breath sweet promises and treats that were to come. Peter welcomed it all.

Sure, under different circumstances, if someone told him that Ace and him were going to be fucking while he wore a collar and acted like a cat, Peter might have laughed and punched that someone. But now he was mewling and unleashing loud, wordless cries as Ace pulled him back into every thrust, pain and pleasure blurring into one intoxicating haze.

Suddenly, Ace groaned louder than before and wrapped his arm around Peter’s chest, pulling him upright against him. Peter cried out at the sudden change in angle and braced his hands against the headboard while Ace continued to fuck him from behind. The thrusts inside him were getting erratic, Ace’s hips stuttering, and Peter could tell he was getting close. If Ace was close, though, Peter was right on the line. All it took was Ace reaching down and wrapping his free hand around his pet’s bobbing cock, just giving it one last stroke, and growling into his ear, “Come, Kitty~” nuzzling his head into Peter’s shoulder.

Peter’s orgasm came sudden and came hard. He threw his head back onto Ace’s shoulder and screamed, his cock jerking and shooting load after load over himself and the wooden headboard. Peter could feel every movement of Ace inside him magnified as the guitarist kept on dragging over that sweet spot over again and again, and Peter felt like he couldn’t possibly come down from his high.

Then Ace froze and jerked a moment later, cock thickening inside Peter’s still clenching channel, and he finally came. The two of them rocked frantically together until the shudders and shivers subsided, and Peter slumped forward, his body still shaking. Ace followed right along, spread hot and sticky across his pet’s back.

Ace pulled out and rolled over a minute later, lying flat on his back and blinking at the ceiling. Peter turned his head lazily and admired his sex-flush and the wild wreck of his hair- of course, his probably didn’t look much better. He leaned in, rubbing his nose against Ace’s sweaty shoulder, a grateful sigh escaping his throat. Ace reached over to put a hand back in Peter’s hair, tugging through the messy strands, crooning softly, approvingly.

“Mm, s’nice, s’nice… good Kitty, good Kitty… did so good, Peter…” he trailed, planting a kiss on top of his head as Peter scooted further in, curling up against Ace. “You sleepy? Go sleep, go sleep…” Ace urged with a yawn of his own, arm dipping down to curl around his pet’s shoulders as he felt his breaths go slow and even as Peter fell asleep in his arms.

 

  
Warm and cozy and soft… pillows and covers that still smelled like Ace even though the guitarist had gotten up and wandered off about an hour ago. Peter didn’t mind, he had never been this comfortable before, so he couldn’t find it in himself to be upset over anything right now.

He was perfectly surrounded by thick down covers and lying back on his favorite fluffy pillow, peaceful and relaxed, and as he opened his eyes, he saw Lydia standing over him, glaring at him, and-- and--

“Oh, fuck me…” Peter shut his eyes and turned his head away from his wife.

“George Peter John Criscuola,” Oh fuck him, she was using his full name… “ _Svegliati, pigro culo!_ What the hell were you thinking?!”

“I wasn’t…” An automatic response and a tired one was thrown out in hopes of her leaving him the hell alone to get some more rest. God, well-fucked didn’t even begin to describe the feeling he’d been enjoying, and here Lydia was, stomping in all bound and determined to turn that feeling into… well, _fucked._

“No, no, no! I wanna know why you’re letting your bum friends into _MY_ home, letting them eat the food _I_ worked all day to buy, and crashing on _MY_ couch that my mother gave us!!” she screamed at him.

Though his body protested, Peter unearthed himself from under the covers and sat up. He quickly regretted it, though. Lydia grabbed him by the ear and tugged him up until he was standing and off the bed. She dragged him to their living room and threw him into the backside of the couch, forcing him to notice Ace lying on it. 

The lead guitarist was dead to the world asleep, a potato chip half in his mouth from a small chip bag he must have found in the bottom of the pantry. He looked entirely content, snoozing, drool falling from his lip and down his chin. Peter winced when he saw the beer bottle in his hand had tipped over, though, already halfway spilled onto the couch. He really should’ve thrown the plastic on there…

“Aww, Ace…” Peter sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

“Fuck him! Fuck you, too! _Ti odio entrambi!_ Look at what you’ve let him do to my house! Grease- all over my tables! How do you two _idioti_ manage to ruin everything?!”

Peter blew out a breath from his nose and didn’t turn back to look at her. He just shook his head.

_Cling, cling~_

In an instant, Peter felt his ears rise up on his head and his body stiffen. The bell- the collar! Ace! Gah, he wanted to lean down and strangle him! He said he was going to take it off after they were done! Now his wife was staring at him, arms crossed with a very judgmental look on her face.

“And what,” an exhale, “the fuck,” and now she was raising one shaking finger to point at the collar, “is _that_ for?”

“It… Lydia, honey--”

“Don’t _honey_ me, Peter! You’re just lucky that floozy already left! Dammit, your friends are bad enough! Don’t you dare think you can let your little tramps into my house, too!”

Peter nodded in defeat. Yeah, yeah, this part he’d heard before. Unfortunately, even his feeble nod was accompanied by another ring from that damn bell. Maybe he was kidding himself, but he could’ve sworn he saw Ace start to smile at the chime.

“And you still haven’t explained the collar!”

“It’s for _KISS!_ ” Peter blurted suddenly, grabbing the bell and turning around to face his wife. He could feel his own blush start back up. “Y- You know! The personas! W- We’re gonna be wearing them onstage! I had to-- try-- look, we got a whole bag of them--”

“ _Cat collars?!_ ”

“Most of them are dog--” Peter started feebly.

“I don’t care! You,” Lydia jabbed his bare chest, “are going to clean up your mess in the bedroom-- oh, I _saw,_ you bastard, you better believe I saw-- and then you and that bum bandmate of yours are gonna clean up _his_ mess here, and then you can both start on the kitchen!”

“Okay--”

“There’s a fucking bowl on the floor! From that china set my aunt gave us! I almost stepped on it coming in!” She was barely pausing for breath. “Jesus, Peter! Don’t you _dare_ expect dinner tonight!”

“It’s okay, Lydia.” Peter jerked his head at the sound. It was Ace, sounding sleepy but sated, running a hand across the beer stain on the couch as he spoke. “I think Peter’s gotten plenty stuffed for the evening-- hahahaha!”

“And what does your messy friend mean by that?!” she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

“The chicken!” Peter threw out. “Yeah, we got food earlier, so we’re fine!”

“You’re not fine- you’re both messed up in the head, that’s what you are!” Lydia shouted. “Listen, I’m going to get you two cleaning supplies from the closet, then you _bastardi_ are going to clean my entire house till it’s spotless! Do you hear me!?”

“Oh boy, do I…” Peter breathed out, leaning back as his wife stormed past him and into the kitchen.

The moment she stepped out of the room, Ace leaned up from his place on the couch and wrapped his arms around Peter’s shoulders, cuddling up to him from behind. Ace buried his face in the nape of Peter’s neck, rubbing his cheek against his leather collar and breathing in the delicious mess of smells. Peter’s own scent, the traces of earlier afternoon activities, all mixed in with the smell of smooth leather and greasy chicken.

“Ace…” Peter whined, keeping his eyes on the doorway leading to the kitchen.

Ace hummed into his neck.

“ _My Kitty~_ ”

One of Ace’s hands reached around and gave the bell a little flick, sending its cheery chime floating out into the room. Peter sighed and relaxed at its sound, leaning back into his master’s arms for the moment.

“Don’t you worry, Kitten,” Ace said, pressing a light kiss against his collar. “Next time, we do it at my place.”

“Your bedroom in your parent’s apartment?”

“...Yeah!” Ace hummed. His hands turned Peter around to face him then ran up and found his face, smoothing out his hair and running his thumb along the drummer’s bottom lip. God, if his wife wasn’t in the next room… Ace really wanted to kiss him; wanted to kiss him and promise more treats and toys. But it was okay. They had plenty of time to figure this out. They would figure it out.

“Love you, Peter.”

“Love you, too, Ace.” Peter said, like a promise, like an oath. Ace smiled and bat at his little bell again, sending its soft chime ringing out once more.


End file.
